by Cassia Leo
“I never do.”
Janine peered over Stella’s shoulder at the polish. “You never stay with anyone long enough to GET sick and tired.”
Stella capped the bottle. “Yeah, well, I saw that sort of misery up close and personal.” She frowned at the door, the only thing that kept her parents’ unhappiness at bay. “You can keep that perfume. I’ll never wear it.”
Janine turned back to the dresser. “Wow. Thanks.”
“Just don’t use it around me.”
Janine plopped back on the bed. “Darlene is nobody to mess with. If she’s sunk her claws into this guy, she’s going to fight.”
“We’ve known Darlene since we were kids. She never wins.”
“True.” Janine picked up the polish and shook it. “But that brother of hers. He’s a problem.”
“I can handle Bobby Ray.”
“Like you did in his trailer?”
“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t get anywhere.” Stella moved to the mirror, tugging her hot-pink shirt off one shoulder just like Flashdance. “This too much?”
Janine came up behind her. “Not on you.” She fluffed Stella’s hair out another inch, sprayed into an airy puff just above her shoulders, blond as gold. “He’s not going to be able to take his eyes off you.”
“Except for these.” Stella lifted her hands up to reveal nails ragged and chipped despite pink polish. “Not much that can fix this. Color makes them look worse.”
“I have just the thing.” Janine opened her purse and plucked out a package of Lee Press-On Nails in bloodcurdling red. “Every girl needs her daggers when she’s going in for a catfight.”
*
Grandma Angie’s white Mustang put-putted down Main Street, occasionally spewing a cloud of black from the exhaust. Vivian had forbidden Stella from taking the family car.
But Grandma Angie had always wanted Stella to have hers and even gave her a set of keys that Vivian didn’t know about. Stella never used the car, though, as one of Vivian’s ex-jerks was the sheriff, and he took to pulling Stella over whenever he spotted her. So usually she walked.
But not today. She patted the vinyl seat. “Thank you, Grandma.”
She only had an hour while Vivian was off at Bible study, and of course the car hadn’t started. Stella called Janine to have her boyfriend come and jump it. Stella knew how to attach the cables, but the nails would fly off at any pressure, and she was too anxious to get to Joe’s to deal with putting on a new set.
Stella could, in fact, change her own oil, rotate her tires, and clean a carburetor. She wasn’t into being a helpless nit, and besides, boys liked it when girls knew the difference between a Chevy big block and a Ford 302.
She punched the button to turn on the radio, hoping something suitable would play before she drove up to the garage. Maybe it could be her and Dane’s song. She got so enamored with the idea that when she found nothing but commercials and “You Can’t Hurry Love,” she drove around the block a few times, hoping for something else. Grandma’s car didn’t have a tape deck, so she couldn’t force a mood.
The opening drum licks for “Maneater” made her mad. Stupid fate. “She Blinded Me with Science” wasn’t exactly ideal. She was about to give up and just shut the damn thing off when she found another station. “It Might Be You.” A little cheesy, but yeah. Why not?
She passed the gas pump and pulled up to the bay doors. Hopefully it’d be quiet, and she could spot Dane.
Old Joe stood just inside and waved her in, tugging a rag from the pocket of his navy overalls. Stella frowned, peering into the dim light, hoping he wasn’t alone. In the back corner, two men leaned on a workbench and laughed. She almost missed Joe’s signal to stop and slammed on the brakes, embarrassed by the sudden squeal.
The two guys looked up, and her heart caught. Dane. And another guy—what was his name? Ryker. That’s right. He’d moved to town a year or so before. Joe had hired him out of semi-desperation after knee surgery, when he couldn’t crawl under cars for a month.
Stella hadn’t run into Ryker very often. He liked his women older, and she liked her men her own age. He was probably thirty, maybe more.
But now she recognized the nose. That’s where she’d seen Dane’s before. On Ryker. He must be the brother Dane had mentioned to her boss. She could see it in how they laughed, the shape of their heads when they turned to her.
“Stella?” Joe was leaning over, tapping on the window. What little hair he had stood out like an electric shock.
She shook her head. The song! Damn! It was nearly over, and she’d forgotten to roll the windows down. And now it would play for Joe! She turned the volume down.
Joe opened the door. “Taking Angie’s car out for a spin?”
Stella tried not to look at the corner to see what Dane was doing. “Yeah. Hasn’t had anything done to it for quite some time.”
Joe stepped back so Stella could get out. Her shirt was all cockeyed and wasn’t even falling off her shoulder anymore. She tugged at it self-consciously, and a fake nail popped into the air. Damn it!
Joe reached in front of her to release the hood. “Needs oil, no doubt. Maybe a filter. We’ll take a look-see.”
He moved around her again, walking to the front of the car. “You can hang around here or come back in half an hour. Unless there’s something major wrong, we’ll have her ready.”
Stella walked carefully toward the front, glad for flat shoes. The floor was gritty and strewn with bits of rubber tire and loose nuts. Joe’s didn’t have a recessed pit like the commercial shops. He jacked cars the old-fashioned way or rolled underneath on a creeper.
“Hey, Ryker,” he called over his shoulder. “Bring me a couple quarts of basic Penn.”
Stella watched Ryker head to a storage cabinet. Finally Dane moved toward them.
“What we got, boss?” Dane asked, eyes on Stella, not the car.
Stella thrust her chin out. That was more like it. She cocked a hip, holding his gaze.
Joe stepped up, wiping the dipstick on a shop towel. “Nothing major. Fluids. Filter. Check the tires, will ya?”
Dane tugged a gauge from his hip pocket, still watching Stella. This was going so much better than she’d hoped.
Stella leaned against the car, right beside the passenger-side front tire. “This one might be low.”
Dane knelt by her bare leg and twisted the cap off the valve stem. The pressure gauge popped out as soon as he pushed it in place. “You’re right,” he said, looking up at her. “Could use a little something.” The light crested off the perfect waves in his black hair. His jaw could have been made of steel. Damn. Boys like him didn’t come through Holly too often.
“I’m Stella.”
“Dane.”
A snort behind them broke the mood. “This looks like a set-up for bad porn.” Ryker set four yellow bottles on the roof of the car.
Dane stood, elbow landing soundly in Ryker’s belly. “Sorry, man. Didn’t realize you were so close.”
Ryker backed away with a rush of air, but laughing. “I’ll get the film crew.”
Stella’s face radiated heat. What a jerk.
“Ryker,” Joe called. “Get down there and drain the oil.” He shoved a creeper with his foot to roll it in the brother’s general direction.
Stella and Dane exchanged a conspiratorial grin as Ryker grimaced. Dane moved to the next tire, and Stella turned to watch, loving the shift of his arm muscles in the sleeveless shirt, the curve of his back. She so wanted a piece of that.
Footsteps approached, a crunch on asphalt, and Joe cleared his throat. They all looked up at the same time.
“Yoo-hoo, Dane, boy. Where are you?” The voice came from a figure, backlit as she entered the garage, quickly morphing into Darlene.
Stella stiffened as the girl glared at her, then leaned down to Dane’s level, forcing his head around for a kiss. Darlene wrapped her fingers around his neck, showing off red nails. Stella hid her mismatched fingers behind her back.
Darlene stood, as tall as Dane in neck-breaking heels. Her black miniskirt was tight and so short that it barely even existed. She wore a red halter and matching red balls for earrings. She passed by Stella, too close. “Like the perfume?” she asked. “Dane said he stopped by your shop. Did you sell it to him?”
Stella faked a smile. “He has good taste. In perfume.”
Darlene strutted around the car. “So, Joe, baby. You going to let Dane go? Doesn’t look busy at the moment.”
Joe turned the shop towel over in his hands. “I reckon he can head on out.”
“You’re a doll,” Darlene said. She wedged herself between Dane and Stella. “I believe you were going to take me to dinner. If, you know, we can wait that long.”
Stella sidestepped her, circling to the other end of the car. She’d let it go for now, but not without a parting shot. “Don’t bother with the meal, Dane. She goes for much less than that.” She waved at Joe, avoiding Darlene’s angry glare. “Joe, I’ll be visiting Grandma Angie. Give us a ring? Tomorrow is fine. No hurry.”
“I’ll lock it up,” Joe said. “Why don’t you drop by first thing, before Beatrice opens shop?”
“Sure.” She waved to Dane. “Nice meeting you. Thanks for checking the tires.”
Stella felt Dane’s eyes on her as she walked away and headed back to her grandmother’s house. That had been a bust in the end, but still, the hook was set. Up to him to actually spit out the other girl’s bait.
***
5: Dane Makes A Choice
DANE bought himself some time by checking the other tires. He didn’t want to look Darlene in the face, afraid she might misinterpret anything she saw. She’d been all right for the few weeks since he’d come to town, and he’d made a show of keeping her with the gift. But her claws were out, and after Stella’s obvious interest, no doubt she’d try to sink them into him.
Joe seemed to understand, and instead of releasing him as Darlene had suggested, asked him to vacuum the car before he took off.
Darlene rolled her eyes and settled in a chair in the waiting area. Dane attached the wand to the vacuum, taking great care in cleaning the creases of the already immaculate seats. He didn’t put too much stock in women, overall. The one love of his life had run off inexplicably, and not even for another man. Pam had just…gone. Didn’t want anything to do with him.
Dane shook it off. Five years gone. Screw her. Too immature, or messed up, or whatever. And if Stella made him think of Pam, then that was one hell of a sign. Run the other way, fast.
He glanced at Darlene. She’d been all right, not too clingy, just fun. He didn’t blame her for reacting sort of strongly to Stella’s intrusion. In a town this small, those two probably had a history. She dug through her purse, extracting a nail file. Not so bad to look at. Interesting enough in the sack. She’d do for a time.
He shut off the vacuum. Tomorrow would take care of itself.
*
They rode the highway back to Holly. After the incident with Stella, Dane had wanted to go someplace bigger, and Darlene had been up for a bit of traveling on the bike, about a half hour to Branson. To her credit, she hadn’t complained about the discomfort of the ride, even though he knew she had to feel it. She’d be sore tomorrow.
Dinner had been pleasant enough. She hadn’t brought up Stella, or been bitchy. She carried that perfume bottle in her purse like it was some great treasure. She pulled it out after dinner and excused herself to spritz it again. Not that she needed it. He might be regretting the purchase if she used it much more.
Summer was long gone, and while the days were warm, the chill of night cooled his cheeks as they approached town. Darlene kept her face in his back and clutched him tightly. Girls wrapping themselves around him on the bike was one of the reasons he loved motorcycles. That and the view, and the smells. A bit of oil, lots of pine, the wetness of a hidden pond in the dark. When they slowed, he could catch that perfume. Hopefully it would have faded a bit.
The sky over the tree line was a jagged field of stars. In the distance, he could make out the craggy outline of the Ozarks. He’d made a good decision, leaving Texas, his oppressive boss at the Harley shop, the dead mother. Ryker had convinced him at the funeral to come on up to Holly, start over.
He didn’t have much tying him down other than his latest girlfriend. But he hadn’t relaxed into her, moved in any closer than he had to. Something kept him cautious, the way you approach an overheating radiator. So he’d moved on, using his mother and brother as the excuse.
Darlene tugged on his jacket. He turned his head slightly, and she pointed to a dirt road to the right. He nodded and turned onto it, dodging the worst of the ruts.
The road narrowed, so little used that the trees encroached on them, occasionally whipping across his helmet like a slap. He slowed again, but a break in the woods revealed a ramshackle cabin. He pulled up. “This where we’re headed?”
Darlene swung her leg over the bike, stiff and awkward in her steps. Not a complainer. He liked her better than he had even earlier in the day, or yesterday when he’d gone to the perfume place. Her hair was calmer now, the hair spray blown right out of it, now brown and long and flowing down the sides of her head instead of all high on top.
He killed the bike and followed her. “This yours?” he asked. No telling what sort of squatter could be living there. It looked like an old hunting cabin.
“My uncle’s. He’s off in Colorado.”
She lifted a flowerpot, showering dead leaves across the porch, and extracted a key. Moonlight lit the face of the cabin, but barely. She seemed to know it all by feel. Dane figured she’d brought a man or two out here before.
The door opened with a squeal that set his teeth on edge. She flipped the light, but it didn’t come on. “He often shuts off the power,” she said. “We can find the box if you want.” She turned, fumbling with something, then a beam of light crossed the room. “Or we can go by flashlight.”
“Works for me.” Dane stepped into the musty, dank cabin. He stifled a sneeze and closed the door behind him.
Darlene took his hand and led him to a sofa. This place was a good find, actually, as Darlene lived with her mom. Seemed like half of Holly was grown and still at home. And Dane bunked with his brother, who seemed to have a different woman there every weekend. He didn’t know where he even found them all. Dane still didn’t have a good sense of the town’s size, or the number of available girls.
But without a car, privacy had been tough to come by. Even though he and Darlene had been together a few weeks, she hadn’t brought him here before, making do with quickies while her mom was shopping or playing bridge next door. Or taking over Ryker’s bedroom at their rundown duplex during lunch breaks. Maybe she hadn’t trusted him before, and wisely so, to be alone in the middle of nowhere. Changing her mind about it probably had to do with Stella.
But no rush this time. This would be good, real good. Darlene set the flashlight on the floor, aiming it at the ceiling for a little light. She perched on the sofa, patting the spot beside her.
He didn’t bother sitting next to her but planted his knee in the cushion and pushed her down to lie on top of her. She was better than average, plenty experienced, and he had already figured out a couple of her hot spots. He would find more.
She wriggled out of the tight skirt as he tugged her halter down. The reds of her lips and nails looked black in the dark, giving her an edgy appearance, almost evil. She unzipped his pants and pushed them out of the way. The cool air washed across him, and then she was already leading him in, without preamble, without play.
And unprotected. He rolled off, trying to slow things, but she came right back at him, pushing him down on the other end of the sofa. She straddled, intent, but he grasped her waist and slid her forward, onto his belly. “Aren’t you in a hurry tonight?” he said. “Let me get something.”
“I’m on the pill.” She persisted, trying to move down again and ensnare him.
<
br /> He sat up and shifted her back on the cushion. “That’s news. You wanted a condom before.” He knew all the tactics girls could use to trap a man. Pregnancy, real or faked. They just needed an incident to cast doubt. He didn’t fall for none of that.
She tried to straddle him again, this time sitting up. “I didn’t trust you then. That you were clean.” She pushed him back against the sofa. “I know better now.”
Actually, he was the one who should probably worry. He lifted her off him again and stood up. “I’ve never checked,” he lied. “So let’s assume it’s not safe.” He tugged his wallet out of the pocket somewhere near his knees and extracted the smooth wrapper.
Darlene went for him again. “Really, we don’t need it.”
That was enough for him. He pushed her away. Not worth the risk, none of it. When she tried to sidle up against him a third time, he picked her up and planted her on the other end of the sofa. And backed off.
Dane could see in the low light that her lips were pressed together. He’d pissed her off, but that didn’t matter. He could already see what he was to her. A way out.
Trap him. Get him. Make him take her somewhere other than this town.
He didn’t want any part of that.
***
6: Stella’s Book
STELLA arrived in the shop to find Beatrice seated cross-legged, eyes closed, fingers in some weird circle position, on a mat in the back of the shop. She wore a hideous stretchy suit in lilac. Stella moved forward to ask her what the hell she was doing, then the smell hit her. Sweet. Sickly. Strong.
Stella coughed and backed away. “What is THAT?”
Beatrice opened her eyes, and Stella realized she wasn’t wearing makeup. Bare eyes. Plain cheeks. Her pale mouth opened, said something, closed.
“What?” Stella asked, still hacking up a lung.